Belgian Chocoalte
by Psycho Goddess
Summary: The Great Debate, Greg style [Unbound challenge response, some GSR]


**Title**: Belgian Chocolate

**Summary**: The Great Debate, Greg style [Unbound challenge response, some GSR]

**Rating**: PG

**Category**: Humour

**Author's Notes**: Okay, so I'll probably write an actual 'response' later this week, but I couldn't stop myself from this short little ficlet when I saw the lines this week. G No self-discipline I tell you. Written incredibly quickly, so all errors are mine. And I'm not even going to PRETEND this is in character. Though the word count is 555, which is fun-ness.

**Disclaimer**: I don't own CSI, CBS, blah, blah, blah.

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"I'm with Sara on this," Jaqui said, "chocolate is better than sex."

"You ladies just haven't had the right bed partner," Greg argued, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"For all that is holy Greg, _please _don't offer your services," begged Sara. She was looking for any escape from the break room at the moment, so she leapt out of her seat when Nick walked by.

"Nick!" she called, louder than necessary. "Nick, please tell me Hodges is done with our sample."

"Sorry Sara. What's the rush?"

"I'll give you a hint. His name starts with G, ends with G and his nickname rhymes with a breakfast food."

Nick smiled. "What's Greg up to now?"

"The great debate."

"Evaluation vs. Creation?"

"Nope. Think more Greg-like."

"Boxers or briefs?"

"Even worse," sighed Sara. "Sex or chocolate."

"What did you answer?" Nick asked, grinning.

"Uh uh buddy. You first," Sara ordered, dragging him by the arm into the break room. They returned in time to hear Greg finish his self-gratuitous spiel.

"I _am_ the master."

"Master Goof, maybe," Nick muttered under his breath, earning a smile from Sara.

"Ahh, Nicky. So good of you to join us. Please, tell these ladies," Greg greeted, motioning to Sara and Jaqui with his hand. "That sex is much better than chocolate. They just don't seem to understand."

"Sex _is_ better than chocolate, guys."

Jaqui mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like 'Frat Boy' and Sara snickered. She had gotten herself a cup of coffee, and was reseated at the table. For the next few minutes, they debated the merits or both sex and chocolate. Unsurprisingly, neither group would change their mind. And as _stimulating _as Sara found the topic, she was relieved at the interruption.

"Sara," Grissom called, ducking his head into the room. "Can you come help me?"

For the second time Sara leapt from her seat, almost spilling her coffee as she did so.

"Thank God!"

Grissom was startled by her enthusiastic response, until Greg opened his mouth.

"So, Grissom…. What's better, chocolate or sex?"

The supervisor regarded Greg with a look that would have had him six feet under by the end of the day.

"That would depend on the quality," he said slowly, "of the chocolate."

"Agreed," Greg said. "But the partner is still important, right?"

"I suppose."

"Thank you! That's what I've been trying to tell Sara here, but she just won't listen."

"I never disagreed, Greg. I just said that your specific skills weren't what I was looking for," the brunette clarified, halfway to the door.

"Fine," Greg said. "Grissom… okay, Belgian chocolate truffles or sex with, say, Sara. What's better?"

Sara blushed, mortified that Greg had the nerve to even suggest such a thing.

"Dark or milk chocolate?"

_If he was trying to be funny_, Sara thought, starting for the door again, _he really sucks at it_.

"Whichever."

"There's a big difference."

"Okay, dark."

"I'm allergic to dark chocolate."

"That means chocolate," Sara stated, refusing to meet Grissom's eyes.

"No, it doesn't," he said, without thinking.

Clearly startled, Sara coughed and hurried out of the room, mumbling something about going to Trace and he could get her there if he needed her. The shocked expressions in the faces of the other three people present reflected his thoughts- _How did he keep getting himself into these situations_?

..........

I'll provide y'all with the paintball guns. Try to avoid hitting my poor knees.


End file.
